


Workout

by missm0neypenny



Category: Actor RPF, American Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 00:55:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/843422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missm0neypenny/pseuds/missm0neypenny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"His athletic make-over had taken place years ago and the simple fact was that he was tired."</p><p>Written in response to the LJ rennerobsession Pic-Fic Challenge from 4/19/13. </p><p>This is a work of fiction inspired by a photograph.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Workout

Working out had long since stopped being enjoyable. As a younger man, he had never been one of those guys who loved hitting the gym. He wasn't lazy – not by any stretch of the imagination – but he'd much rather break a sweat doing construction or playing football on the beach with his buddies.

When that first role came along that required him to work with a trainer and prepare for stunts, he had thrown himself into the workouts. He was 100% committed to making his character's physicality look believable.

Then along came another action role. And another. Working out became second nature and he started to get a reputation as a go-to, action guy. More superficially, clothes fit better. Women definitely responded to his new body and, let's be honest, the increased strength and stamina had also helped in that area.

But that athletic make-over had taken place years ago and the simple fact was that he was tired. Tired of the monotony of the gym. Tired of denying himself the bacon on his cheeseburger. Tired of dragging his ass out of bed when his woman was curled against him sleepy and warm. The exercise-induced endorphin boost could not compete with feeling her soft breasts pressed against his back, dragging her hand from his chest to his morning wood, and greeting the morning light with her lips on his neck. Instead, while she was still buried under a mountain of snowy sheets, he was at the gym, pushing his aging body through the sprints of a high school track star.

And then there's the fuckin' paparazzi to deal with. Shoving their lenses in his face, shouting out questions he had learned not to answer. If only he could, he'd shout back at them: _You're goddamn right I'm grumpy. No, this is not my resting face._

So it was with aching muscles and a weary soul he pushed through his front door. He'd take a long shower, wash the sweat away, and then some coffee and Advil would perk him up a bit. The rest of his day was free. Maybe, if she wasn't too busy, he could convince her to join him for an afternoon “nap” later –

“Good morning, handsome.”

Sweet Jesus. It was all his Betty Crocker fantasies come to life. She stood in the kitchen wearing her sheer little apron that did little to protect her from splatters and nothing to conceal her naked body. Speechless, he watched as she sauntered close and held a ripe strawberry to his mouth. He plucked it from her fingers with his lips as he wrapped his hands around the warm flesh of her waist.

She buried her nose in his chest, inhaled deeply, and sighed “God, you smell good.” By the time he swallowed the berry, her greedy little hands had already found their prize in his track pants. He decided the shower could wait.


End file.
